Chapter 5

They get back on the road. They drive for days, stopping for the night in nondescript motels or parked up on side roads. They fuck in king sized beds and in the back seat of the Impala.

It's kinda like a honeymoon, if Dean's honest with himself. But it's a honeymoon flavored with existential dread and the desperation that forces them to get as much of each other as they possibly can before the inevitable happens.

They're running, avoiding the end. Stretching out the time they have together. It's irresponsible, really, because who knows how many people the demon is preying on when he can't get to them.

So when they cross the border into Kansas, a place that, at least for Dean, will always feel a little more like home, they stop running.

They pick a decent motel. Windows that aren't covered in a grimy film, bathrooms clear of mold and other people's pubes. High thread count sheets and pillows that don't smell like dust.

As luck would have it, they pick up a job. Nothing major, restless spirits in the local high school. It's a well known and almost benign haunting, years of documented mischief passed off as student pranks, until the week before Sam and Dean arrive, when the bleachers in the gym fold up by themselves, liquefying a group of students standing beneath.

Then they’re in another cemetery armed with shovels and salt and flame, but this time they burn the bones and warm their hands over the fire and head back to the motel.

"Here," Dean says, as Sam comes out of the shower. "I bought you something." He reaches up to fasten a solid chain, made of real silver, around Sam's neck.

"I didn't get you anything," Sam says, only half joking.

"Nah," Dean says. "I'm covered. Every time you leave, when you return, I'll do this." He reaches out, and he touches the chain where it sits at the base of Sam's throat.

"I thought you said you'd know anyway."

"I wanna know before it happens. I don't want to be surprised, Sammy."

"So we're ready, then. You're gonna let it happen."

Dean walks over to the bed. He reaches beneath the mattress, and he pulls out a shining silver blade, shows it off, then puts it back. "We're ready."

Sam goes for beer and burgers.

Dean waits.

---

Sam returns, having taken just a little too long. He doesn't say a word, just gives Dean a look that's part frustration and part relief as he puts the beer and the fast food bags on the small table in the kitchenette.

Dean shrugs. "I guess tonight's not the night." He eyes the chain at Sam's throat as he approaches, and he brushes his fingers along the gleaming metal and sighs. The links are the same temperature as Sam's skin. "Upside, I get to eat and drink and go to bed with you."

"I won't lie," Sam says. "I know it's only delaying the inevitable, but I'm grateful he hasn't caught up with us yet."

Dean nods and hurrumphs through the burger already in his mouth. Sam smiles fondly. "You're disgusting," he says.

"Uh huh. " Dean grins as he chases the food he's still chewing with a fistful of fries.

---

When they hit the hay, Dean is lightly buzzed. They sleep naked now, no point in pajamas when they're just gonna get wriggled out of anyway, and the feeling of Sam's warm body wrapped around him is like nothing Dean's ever experienced before.

Sam's arm tightens around Dean's chest, and Sam presses soft, tender kisses to the back of Dean's neck, across his shoulder.

It invokes a kind of Pavlovian response, an all-over shiver of anticipation, and Dean's dick gets hard and he rolls forward and spreads his thighs in anticipation.

"Ahh," Sam breathes. "You're so easy," He slides his hand between the cheeks of Dean's ass. Feather touches over Dean's hole, along his perineum, just a tease.

"Fuck you," Dean says, without malice.

Sam chuckles. "I thought I might fuck you." He shifts, rolling away, then he returns, a snap of plastic, squirt of liquid, and his fingers are back.

Dean gasps at the cold lube on his hot flesh, moans as Sam's finger works its way inside.

"Maybe I'll make you come like this first."

"No. Wanna ride you."

Sam groans. "You're so bossy. Like being on top, don't you?"

Yes, he is, and yes, he does, but not so much in bed, and Sam knows it. Dean doesn't flinch, but he wants to know how this Sam faked the necklace. Fucking shapeshifters.

He's fucking a monster.

Fucking a monster was the plan. He's ready. He spares a thought for his Sam, the real Sam, wherever he is, if he knows, if he's safe, if he's ready.

"I'm ready," he says, the double meaning of his own words stark. He moves, shivering as he's left empty, and rises up to his knees, the sheets falling away from his body.

There's a sliver of light passing over the bed where the curtains don't quite meet. Flickers of green neon paint Sam's skin with an otherworldly glow, heightening the effect of other, of alien in Dean's mind. He straddles this alien Sam, blocking the green, and sinks down on his cock, and this is the first time since the cave that they've done it like this, and there's a reason for that, and it worked.

Sam's large hands grip Dean's waist, and he fucks up into Dean's body, hard and deep, and a flash of memory hits Dean like a freight train, the witch, in the cave, crumpled and bleeding and dead.

That won't happen to him.

Dean leans forward, presses his hands to the mattress, braces as the demon drives into him with punishing thrusts. Who does he think he's fooling? He's been watching them—he must know that Sam doesn't fuck like this—doesn't fuck Dean like this.

He knows. He knows Dean knows.

Dean gasps and stiffens, and he clenches down on the monster inside him, and instead of passively taking, he starts riding the creature's cock, forcing this fake version of Sam back into the mattress. "Who do you think you are?" he spits. "I'm on top."

This monster is a perfect copy of his brother and Dean knows by now how to make his brother come, and that's what he's going to do, if it kills him.

Maybe it will.

"Fuck, Dean," the monster groans. "You are glorious. I knew you would be."

"And I knew you weren't Sam before you even got inside me."

"What made you think—oh, fuck—I was trying to fool you?" The demon gasps for air, his fingers digging bruises into the soft flesh at Dean's waist. "You wanted this, Dean. I know you wanted this, just like Sam did, though he won't admit it. I could have him again, I will have him again, if you don't fight me—fuck, Dean, don't stop, don't stop—"

The monster is close, Dean has to be quick, to be prepared, but he's in desperate danger of coming himself, untouched, riding a demons cock. He shifts, just enough so the facsimile of his brothers cock isn't stabbing his prostate, not so much that the monster won't come, and he focuses on hastening that outcome and the motions he'll go through the moment it does happen.

Then "Come for me, Dean," the monster says. "Come for me, and then I'll give you what you need so badly."

Dean's heart skips and his movements falter, and the monster grips him hard, forcing him still. "What do I need?"

"You need me to come, you've done your research. Where is it? There's a silver blade nearby. Under the pillow? Behind the headboard? You need me to come so you can kill me."

Dean's blood runs cold. Slowly, he reaches down, pulls the knife from under the mattress. "So what now? You're gonna kill me?"

"No, Dean." The creature takes his hands from Dean's waist, wraps them around Dean's wrists. "I'm going to make you come, because that's what I need."

Dean thanks god that he had the forethought to stash a blade of pure silver, handle and all, so the demon can't take it from him. "Then you'll kill me."

The eyes that roll back are Sam's, the look of exasperation is Sam's, too. "I don't want you dead." Then, without pulling out of Dean's body, he rolls them over so Dean's on his back and the monsters cock sinks deeper into his body. "I want you alive, and Sam, too. Imagine, Dean, you could be the meat in a Sam sandwich. Two of us, pleasure like you've never felt before." He pulls back, Dean's wrists pinned to the mattress, and thrusts back inside, grazing Dean's prostate and making him keen.

"Sam," Dean says. "He's alive? What did you do with him?"

The demon does it again. "He's safe. He's in the car. He'll be waking up soon, just in time to join us."

Dean stiffens and, for the first time, fights the hold the monster has on him. "Don't want him to see this."

The monster starts to thrust in earnest. "But he will. I can keep you on the edge for as long as it takes, and when he opens the door, the first thing he'll see is you coming hard on my cock. It'll be perfect."

"No," Dean moans. "Please." He opens his hand and drops the silver blade. "I fucking surrender. Make me come. Just make me come, now, I'll give you what you want—"

"You'll give it to me anyway." The monster’s eyes flick toward the door, and his thrusts falter. "He's awake." He releases his grip on Dean's wrists, and he shoves Dean's knees into his chest, and starts fucking, hard, stabbing his cock into Dean's prostate again and again.

His arms are free, but Dean can't move. His hands scrabble for purchase but all they find is the posts of the headboard, and he clings, desperately, as the demon drives into him with punishing thrusts.

Sam doesn't fuck him like this, Sam never fucked Dean like this. Sam has done things to Dean's body that he can't even describe, pulling his orgasm out of him, slow and inevitable, but he's never done this.

He hears the rattle of the door, and he feels the breeze on his skin, and he fights it but that's the moment when the demon forces his orgasm out of him in a burst of explosive violence.

Dean screams his throat raw, and his vision whites out, like someone just turned a blinding light on him, and his balls pulse until there's nothing left.

And as the room fades back in, the first thing he sees is Sam.

His Sam. The real Sam.

Dean tries to cover himself. He can't move. "Sam," he whimpers.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam says, but he's not looking at Dean. He's looking at the monster.

"Sammy," the monster says, but his voice has changed. Dean looks up, and he flinches, because he's looking at his own profile. The monster, still balls deep inside Dean, looks like him.

The demon moves, pulling out, leaving Dean clenching and moaning. It climbs off the bed, and it seems to weave a little, like it's intoxicated, and finally it makes sense.

It's feeding. Now is when it's vulnerable. Dean's fingers brush the cold silver of the blade, still lying where it fell, and as the monster reaches his brother and reaches for him, Dean finds he can move.

Dean pulls himself up to sitting as the demon drags Sam toward the bed by the hand.

"It's your turn," the demon says to Sam, as he deftly removes Sam's clothing, piece by piece. "You're gonna fuck me, Sammy. You're gonna come inside me, give me what I need."

It's almost slurring, drunk on Dean's orgasm. Imagine how impaired he might be with Sam's come inside him—

"Do it, Sam," Dean says. "Do to him what he just did to me."

Finally, Sam's eyes flick toward Dean, then back to the monster. "Yeah," he says, and then gives the monster a shove, pressing him down into the mattress and dropping his jeans so he's as naked as everyone else in the room.

Sam shoves the demon's knees into his chest and drives his cock inside, violently, unceremoniously. The monster arches and throws his head back and looks at Dean with glazed, unfocused eyes and a look of ecstasy on his face and its now or never.

Dean strikes.

The blade slides between the monsters ribs. Dean feels the resistance of hard muscle, and keeps pushing, and the surprise on the monster's face—Dean's face—is frozen there as silver pierces its heart.

Sam heaves and pulls out of the dead thing lying on the bed, and stumbles away only to vomit on the floor.

Dean slumps sideways, pulling the corner of a sheet over himself, using it to wipe, ineffectually, at the mess of his own come on his chest and belly.

Eventually, Sam stops heaving, and Dean feels him come closer. "Come on," Sam says. "Let's get you in the shower."

Dean let's himself be led, like a child, stumbling and shivering. He's in shock, and that's a wonder, because he's a hunter, he's seen and done things most people can never imagine, but this, this is what makes him crumple.

He doesn't hear the words, but the sound of Sam's voice soothes him, centers him, and he clings to his brother under the hot water.